


The Perfect Shot

by AllisontClarke



Category: Prompt - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Assassins & Hitmen, But it's Tuesday, Photography, Short One Shot, Writing Prompt Wednesday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisontClarke/pseuds/AllisontClarke
Summary: Prompt:A photographer and a sniper meet in a bar, and without knowing the others professions, they discuss how to take the prefect shot.





	The Perfect Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random prompt I did a while ago while I finish up on some bigger projects.  
> As always, kudos and comments make my day!  
> And if you like this, feel free to stick around and read my other works. I update them every 1-2 days!

A mere couple seconds after stepping through the glass door my mind was already foggy from just the scent of the place. But I so desperately craved a drink after such a long day, I found myself not caring. Oh how you’ve let yourself go. My feet shuffled towards the counter where the bartender stood still, polishing a cup. The atmosphere was loud, men fighting over a pool game, seductive women dripping pearls and red fabric, sad, lonely drunks sitting alone, the bar looked like it always did on a Thursday. Except for the man in black who sat before me at the counter. Hands crossed in front of him cupping a glass of whiskey. I sat tentatively beside him, almost as if he was a statue. As if I shouldn’t disturb him. His face was grim and dangerous. Maybe from the way he held his features or just plainly his features themselves. Something gave off the aura that he was above me. That I was simply a passenger and he was a train. Somehow though, I always gave off a feel of unimportance. I was simply never enough. That was true. Maybe it was my lack of a degree, a factor always kept in mind by my mother. I hated the tables and the desks though, the rules of a classroom. I always had an eye for beautiful things. A camera felt almost natural in my hands. My mother didn’t understand. Neither did my ex wife. But the day I finally made money from this, became rich, they'd understand. Tonight though, was not the night unfortunately since I was now sat at a bar next to an illusive stranger. And smalltalk was never a strong point with me.  
“Hi, I’m Roger, pleasure meeting you here, I’ve never seen your face around before.” I began, a slight shake in my hands.  
“Good day Roger. You probably have never seen me before, I’m constantly traveling.” His voice was three octaves deeper than mine, and raspy too. Though his almost stark politeness threw me off guard. And though I didn’t know him, it seemed out of character. An act.  
“I often travel for my job too. I’ve been all over the east coast all the way down to Blueridge.” I commented.  
“Interesting. I’m only stopping in this town for tonight. I much prefer big cities.”  
“I couldn't agree more. Once I save up enough, I’m leaving for a bustling city. God, I just hate this town.”  
“Tell me why.”  
“No opportunities. And I’m starting to dislike my family.”  
“I see.” He took a sip from his glass, never turning to face me.  
“Also there's hardly any life out here. Took me hours to get a perfect shot. And I won't even make much money off it.”  
At that his features perked up slightly out of interest.  
“Hm, I didn’t think of you like that, I’ve never met someone else during my travels who shares my interests before, considerably someone so upfront, personally, I find it harder to get the right shot in a city. Too many people around blocking the view of the target. And the sun's glare off the buildings just about ruins it. You never want to get a messy shot.”  
“Oh I agree! A messy shot is a pain to deal with. But in a city there's so much to shoot! So much opportunity.”  
“You must not just shoot everything now, you’ll never make any money that way. Only shoot who you’re paid for”  
“Well along the way if you see something pretty you have to shoot it. And I've never gotten a good shot of a person before, only animals and buildings.”  
He looked at me puzzledly.  
“You must be terrible at your job then.”  
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair  
“Does everyone see me as just a failure?”  
“Don’t get upset now. I’m sure they don’t. Being an assassin is a tough job anyways. Join me tomorrow and I’ll teach you the ropes. For free. Then you won’t feel so bad anymore.”  
My face went pale, suddenly I felt no humour anymore.  
“Meet me at the town's exit at dawn. Is it a deal?” He held out his hand.  
No humour at all.


End file.
